


Someday We'll Look Back ...

by ladyamesindy



Series: Of Templars and Kings [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:40:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4160793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyamesindy/pseuds/ladyamesindy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The king is dead.  Long live the king!  But wait ... who IS the king?  Upon taking the throne of Ferelden, Bryce Cousland discovers that King Maric Theirin had ANOTHER son to whom the crown might go ....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someday We'll Look Back ...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a small thank you written for picchar on tumblr in return for the gorgeous picture of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland she created for my story, "We Do What Must Be Done." 
> 
> As a set up, this piece is based off an AU Dragon Age idea I had a while back, one I actually shared with picchar at the time, where Bryce Cousland becomes king after Maric’s disappearance instead of Cailan. Once taking the throne, Bryce comes upon the information about Alistair being Maric’s bastard. While the main story will revolve around the resolution of that issue, this is a sort of side story where Teagan brings Alistair to meet Bryce (as king) and Elissa at the Royal Palace ....

As first impressions went, this one was huge.  Literally.  He had no idea just how many rooms were housed in the royal palace, but if he’d had to guess it was well more than any he’d ever come across in one building before.  And _that_ included the Chantry.

_Some day I am to be king and I will be responsible for all of this._

If it had been anyone other than his sort-of-uncle, Teagan, coming to the Chantry, pulling him aside, and showing him the royal decree (and then going head to head with the Revered Mother, shoving it into _her_ face (and hadn’t _THAT_ been a sight!) until she understood), Alistair would never have believed it.  For his entire life, as far back as he could remember anyway, he had been told that he had no claim to the throne of Ferelden.  None.  He still recalled the day when he was a young child and Arl Eamon told him that the tall blond man and his son who had just visited Redcliff had been the King of Ferelden.  And Alistair’s father.   _Oh, and you will never have a chance to become king yourself, so don’t bother saying anything to anyone about it because it is super secret …._

Sighing heavily, he now wondered, _What good would it have done anyway?_   _No one would have believed me.  I’m not even sure I believed it then, and now they tell me everything has changed._

Going overnight from being the king’s by-blow mistake with a serving girl that everyone wished would simply disappear, to the heir apparent of the royal throne?  Things like this weren’t normal.

“Alistair?”

He turned, feeling more than just a little overwhelmed - and they were only in the vestibule of the palace!  Quickly and quietly, he met his his uncle’s eyes.  Similar to Eamon’s, he supposed, but different.  A softer edge.  Kinder?  Maybe that was unfair (not that it really mattered in the grand scheme of things), but it was an apt description.  Teagan definitely seemed to understand more about Alistair than Eamon ever had.  That was a start, at least.  “Yes?”

“Wait here,” Teagan told him.  “The king would like to speak to you.”

Alistair nodded, already becoming distracted by the portraits that lined one of the side halls nearby.  

Teagan smiled, albeit sadly - he had not approved of his brother’s treatment of Maric’s son by sending him off to the Chantry, but he’d not been in a position to argue it at the time.  Still, Alistair appeared not to have suffered too much at any of the hands who had guided him so far in his life.  Nodding at one of the royal guards on duty nearby, the man acknowledged the silent request.   _Keep an eye on him_.  Only then did Teagan go in search of Bryce Cousland.

Alistair had no idea who the portraits were as he slowly walked down the hall, but that didn’t matter.  He supposed they must have been someone important once and that was more than enough to identify them for him.  Though, as he walked along and examined them, he found himself wondering just how recently some of them had occupied these very halls.  He knew enough from his history lessons to recognize that ‘recently’ could well have been in the last age before the Orlesians had come.  Still, their portraits gave off the air of legitimacy and regalness, and Alistair wondered if his own portrait might not join theirs someday.  It was a sobering thought.

  _Someday._ Alistair sighed.   _Teagan says I won’t be thrown into this until I have had a chance to learn.  That they won’t just up and leave me in charge with no idea what to do.  Good thing, that.  Otherwise who knows WHAT might happen!  Next thing you’d know, we’d be at war with Orlais over whether Ferelden Cheddar is better than Orlesian Brie!_

He arrived at the far end of the hall and turned, preparing to make his way back along the opposite side he had followed down.  He saw the guard trailing discretely behind and nodded, offering an amused if brief smile.  However, before his attention could be captured by the face towering above him, he heard a voice from down the hall that crossed perpendicular to this one.  The hackles on the back of his neck rose just a bit - the voice sounded angry, irritated - and he paused to look down the left branch.  About halfway down the hall, he noticed another palace guard standing just outside a door.  That guard didn’t appear to be worried or concerned at all, but Alistair thought he could still hear voices.  A moment later, he saw the guard on duty shift nervously from foot to foot.  

“Is there no one who will spar with me?” a most decidedly feminine voice shouted in demand.  She must have been standing inside the room near the doorway because Alistair could hear a deeper voice responding, but the words spoken were muffled and unclear.  Curiosity catching the better of him just then, Alistair began wandering in that direction.

“My lady, I am sorry, but we have no one available at this time,” Alistair finally caught as he neared the entrance.  The guard outside was still shifting from foot to foot still and Alistair couldn’t help but wonder if he was worried he might be chosen.  “Perhaps if you were to go up to Fort Drakon they could -”

Alistair peeked over the guard’s shoulder and caught a blur of movement.  “I don’t want to go to Fort Drakon,” she replied agitatedly.  “I want to know why I can find no one among your ranks with the courage to face me here!  You are the Palace guard!”  She made a disgusted sound.  “Just … find me someone.   _ANY_ one.  I am used to training daily, and because of recent events keeping me from that routine, it has been weeks since I last sparred!”

The hassled guard inside the room bowed, turning towards the door and Alistair a moment later.  Their eyes met and Alistair noted the flash of inspiration behind his eyes just as he called out, “You!”

Wariness was quick to wrap around him like a blanket.  Blinking, he looked around and replied, “Me?”

“The Lady Cousland needs a training partner.”

Alistair spared a quick glance down at the splint mail armor Teagan had provided when the Chantry had claimed they had nothing for him.  “Um …”

“My lady,” the guard called over his shoulder while ignoring Alistair’s half voiced protest, “I have found you a training partner.”

“Erm …,” Alistair tried again, “I think you have me mistaken for -”

The softest creak of oiled leather was the only announcement of her arrival beside him.  Glancing over, Alistair swallowed tightly at the sight of her.  She was beautiful!  Dark raven curls pulled back over her shoulder into a thick braid with a few wisps curling around the sides of her face, bright greenish-blue eyes, and a splash of freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks.

Her eyes scanned over him, evaluating what she saw before she announced, “You will do.”

Alistair’s eyes snapped back to hers at this pronouncement.  “Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t.  I am here to meet someone,” he tried again.  But she had turned on her heel by then and moved around him, exiting the room.

“Are you armed?” she called back.

Slightly affronted, Alistair replied, “Of course!”  Who would be foolish enough to travel the roads these days without some sort of protection?

“And you are obviously armored,” she pointed out, leading the way further down the hall to their left, exiting through the doors at the end and leading the way to the training area nearby.

“Well, yes, but -”

“Then you will do.”

No sooner had she repeated this phrase then she pulled two wicked looking daggers free of their sheathes and spun around to face him.  “Arm yourself.”

Alistair sighed.  Had not sister Anna warned him that one day his curiosity would get him into trouble?   _More like all the time_.  Reaching for his sword and shield, he barely had them in his grasp before she launched herself in an attack.

 

~ n ~

 

“We did not expect you until the latter part of the week,” Bryce explained as he followed Teagan to greet the future King of Ferelden.  

“We made better time than I expected,” Teagan replied.

“Did you tell him?”

Teagan looked over at Bryce.  “That he is to be king?”

“That he will marry my daughter,” Bryce clarified.

Teagan chuckled and flashed the older man a quick grin and a wink.  “Your Majesty, I decided to leave _THAT_ good news for you to deliver.”

Bryce’s echoing amusement was as hearty as Teagan’s.  “Fair enough,” he agreed.  They were just arriving at the vestibule when he asked, “How did he take the other?”

Teagan sighed and stopped short of the doorway.  Turning to face Bryce, he admitted, “I had to tell him.  It would have come out anyway with as difficult as the Revered Mother was being.  He was … surprised, I guess.  A bit incredulous.”

Bryce nodded.  “Who could blame him after being told for so long that he would never have a chance at the throne?”

The pair then passed through the doorway into the main vestibule … to find it empty.  Coming to a halt, they shared a look.  “I hope rumors about me didn’t frighten him away,” he murmured.

Teagan sighed, shaking his head.  “I left him with one of your guards,” he explained.  

There came a shout at the far end of the opposite hall and both men hurried in that direction.  Teagan recognized the man in the distance - now bent over and out of breath - as the guard he’d enlisted earlier.  Frowning, he chastised, “I thought I -”

“I’m - I’m sorry, my lord,” the guard rasped.  His arm shot out to point to the end of the perpendicular hall.  “The … the Lady Elissa … she demanded a t-training par-partner and -”

“Maker’s breath!” Bryce groaned, not waiting for the man to finish before he began running down the hall.  

Teagan followed after.  “A training partner?” he echoed as he caught up with Bryce.

Bryce nodded.  “You know Elissa.  She prefers her routine, including daily training exercises.  With everything that’s happened of late, I suppose this really comes as no surprise.”

Teagan couldn’t hold back a chuckle.  “She is as headstrong as her lineage suggests,” he pointed out.  When the king glanced over at him, Teagan dropped his head in a respectful bow, but could not quite hide his smirk.  “Your Majesty,” he added quickly.  They had been friends long before Bryce accepted the crown.

Sighing, Bryce hurried through the outer doors the guards were opening to allow them to pass.

The palace training grounds were near the royal gardens.  Though still some distance away from their current position, Bryce and Teagan could still hear Elissa’s commanding tones rising above the growing din of weapons clanging and clashing together in battle.

“She appears to be in fine form today, your Majesty,” Teagan offered as they approached.

Elissa’s voice rose above the clamor before Bryce could reply.  “Why do you hold back?” she demanded angrily.  “I swear to you now that if you do not put your full effort into this session, I will toss your sorry arse into the dungeons myself and promptly lose the key!”

Bryce winced as he and Teagan turned the last corner.  But where he half expected to find his daughter moving to do as she had threatened - she might take after the headstrong Couslands, but her temper was definitely from her mother’s side of the family! - instead he and Teagan came upon an entirely different scene.  From one moment to the next, Bryce heard Elissa’s opponent release a cry of battle so loud as to make the king’s ears ache.  In the same motion, he spun around with his shield arm lashing out and catching Elissa on her left arm and shoulder at such an angle and with enough power behind it to lift her off her feet and toss her backwards.  She landed with a pained grunt and in a crumpled heap a short distance away.

 

~ n ~

 

The fading haze of battle notwithstanding, Alistair knew the moment his shield made contact that he had gone overboard.  His templar training had been about the only good thing during his time at the Chantry, and he’d devoted himself to it.  Thing was, he knew better than to go into a sparring session full tilt.  He’d tried to explain, but the Lady Cousland had refused to give him the chance, and, well ….

Dropping his shield and sword, Alistair rushed over to kneel beside her.  “Are you alright?” he asked.

She nodded, thankfully, and relief washed through him.  He also noted she appeared to be struggling to regain her breath.  However, aside from being winded, she seemed to be fine.  “You,” she rasped after a minute, “you are … pretty good.”

Alistair felt heat fill his cheeks.  Hand rising to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck, he opened his mouth to reply until he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and a soft chuckle behind him that had him turn around instead.

“Well,” Teagan announced, his eyes meeting Elissa’s, “I see you have found your match, my lady, and met him well.”

Elissa sucked in a deep breath before pushing herself upwards into a sitting position.  “I have?”  She glanced over at her opponent again, a look of surprise evident as she evaluated him to toe anew.  “I suppose I have at that,” she agreed a moment later.

“Are you alright, Pup?” Bryce asked, the father in him overruling any other questions just then.  Extending his hand towards her, he pulled her to her feet.

Elissa nodded again as she brushed dust and dirt off.  “I’m fine,” she replied.  Turning to face him, she extended her hand and said, “You are Alistair, then?  King Maric’s son?”

Alistair nodded, taking her hand in his briefly.  “That’s me,” he agreed.  Had he been asked, he would admit to surprise that she’d called him ‘son’ instead of ‘bastard’ - most people referred to him that way - but he would also admit to finding it a nice change.

She nodded, taking a moment to look more closely.  Suddenly feeling like he was beneath the overly critical gaze of the Revered Mother, Alistair shifted awkwardly on his feet, his hand rising to rub at the back of his neck again.  When her gaze moved from him to her father, Alistair sighed softly, his relief nearly palpable, before glancing over surreptitiously at his uncle.  All he found there was a smirk and more than just a hint of amusement.  

“He’s the one?”

Alistair’s eyes were pulled back to Elissa and her father at her question, curiosity getting the better of him.

“He is,” the king replied.  

Alistair opened his mouth to inquire what they were discussing (that it was him, he was fairly certain, but beyond that he couldn’t even begin to fathom), but before he could, Elissa turned back to face him, the look in her eyes so intense he suddenly felt as if he was a lone spec of dirt upon white linen that had caught her full attention.  “I owe you an apology then,” she told him.

Alistair blinked.  “You do?”  He ignored the soft chuckling of his uncle behind him.

She nodded.  Retrieving her blades, she sheathed them and turned back to face him. “I did not think to give you a chance to tell me who you are.”

Feeling awkward again, Alistair shrugged.  “I like a good sparring session as much as the next person,” he told her.  

That brought a smile, he noticed.  One that reached up into her eyes, making them sparkle.  “I see.  Well, perhaps we can continue this … discussion at some future date?”  She glanced over at her father briefly then back at Alistair.  “I believe you have an appointment to keep just now.”  

In a quick movement, she turned back to her father, leaned up to kiss his cheek, then nodded over at Teagan and finally at Alistair before stepping to the side and leaving the three alone.  With everything happening in such quick succession, it left Alistair feeling a bit out of breath.  “Wow.”

“Is that your official position?” Teagan asked.

“What?”  Alistair turned, his eyes meeting the amused glance of his uncle and then those of the king.  “Oh.  Erm … Sorry,” he murmured, heat rising as embarrassment dogged his heels yet again.  “I just … I’ve never met anyone quite like that before.”

Bryce chuckled along with Teagan.  “Yes, well, Elissa does have that impact upon people at times,” he replied.  “Why don’t we head on back inside?  You and I have much to discuss about your future.”

Alistair glanced over at Teagan again who nodded his reassurance.  Taking a deep breath, Alistair nodded too.  He suspected that this might be one of those things that, someday, he would look back at and laugh, but for the moment the need for answers to clear out confusion was more pressing.  


End file.
